


Second Waltz

by orangeCrates



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Ghosts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 03:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8355277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangeCrates/pseuds/orangeCrates
Summary: Altair and Malik head to exorcise a rampaging monster that was eating everything living and dead it could get into its mouth. They are helped by a ghost who wanted only one thing in return.Malik's body. (But not for anything dirty or even dangerous. She didn't even want it forever.)She only wanted it for the length of a song, nothing more.It did not make Altair any happier about the arrangement. He came here to get rid of a monster, he did not come here to dance.(But Malik would remind him that it wasn't always about solving things with violence. Sometimes their job was helping people move on.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story took three years to write. Mostly because I would start it two to three days before Halloween, get stuck, get into a writing grove and then--Halloween comes and goes and the story gets put on the backburner until Halloween comes again.
> 
> (Early) Happy Halloween!

The two of them were no strangers to being possessed, much as it rankled to admit. No matter how careful they were sometimes it just wasn't enough and one of them would end up with something nasty crawling somewhere deeper than skin, flesh and bone, while it smiled unpleasantly with a familiar face.

It was because they were not stranger to this (because Altair could still remember the last time when Malik had leaned in, eyes dark and smile sadistic as he talked about slitting Altair's throat) that Altair grabbed Malik by the shoulder and grinded out a sharp, _no._

The ghost (a small slip of a girl not even eighteen and Altair knew that had to do with it. Because Malik had a soft spot for children and always felt a messy mix of anger, pity and sadness for those who die young), flinched back, but Malik only tilted his head to give Altair a look that was unimpressed and unconvinced.

"This is a bad idea."

In fact, this entire thing had been a bad idea from the moment they stepped through the front door to find that something malicious and far more powerful than what they'd been told had holed itself in this place. Altair's heart had stopped for a moment when Malik was thrown from the room and it hadn't been because he was left to fight on his own.

It was ironic, a strange reflection of what had happened once, a long time ago when they seemed to barely tolerated each other and wouldn't have automatically stood back to back at the first sign of unknown danger, except (unlike Altair back then) Malik had come back in time to tell (scream at, really) Altair to destroy the clock on the mantle.

There had been another ghost in this place, a scared, powerless thing that had avoided being consumed like everything else, mortal or otherwise, because she was so weak and insignificant that she hadn't been noticed. She'd appeared to Malik because he was nowhere near the thing when he'd been thrown out of the room and she was the one who told them about the clock and its ties to the monster.

In return she'd asked to be released from this place and Altair already knew that Malik would not allow it to happen through violence. It was no surprise and also not a problem and normally Altair were content to allow Malik to deal with these things.

Up until he'd agreed to allow the ghost to use his body.

The ghost had talked wistfully about her coming of age ceremony, how she had been dressed up prettily and was supposed to dance with a partner besides her sister or tutor.

"Just one dance." She'd said wistfully, "I just want one dance. It's all I want."

And Malik, the damn bleeding heart had said yes. Had only hesitated briefly when the ghost said she wanted to do it in a body, a warm, living body. And she wanted it to be Malik's.

Then he agreed and Altair wanted to shake him until he saw sense.

Malik only rolled his eyes at him.

"You're being ridiculous." He tried to shrug off Altair's hand and glared when Altair only tightens his grip in response. If he still had his left hand he would have ripped Altair's hand off his right shoulder. As it was, all he did was pull away and turn back towards the ghost.

Which was why they find themselves here now, with "Malik" standing in front of Altair, looking down at his hand, fingers spread as he turned it over, once, twice, then bringing it up to stare up at it and repeat the motions again. Altair watched, eyes dark as the ghost in Malik's body pressed the hand to his chest, over his heart and the naked wonder in those eyes was nothing at all like any expression Altair had ever seen on Malik.

"Oh." And it was Malik's voice but there's a faint echo that sounds younger and more girlish, faint and light like a wisp of smoke that follows after like a shadow. The ghost in Malik's body breathed in, long and deep...and coughs when there's too much dust mixed floating, disturbed, in the stale air. But there's a pleased smile on his flushed face and it's that expression that made Altair scowl because of its familiarity. He uncrossed his arms.

"Let's get this over with." He reached out, but "Malik" shook his head and moved back.

"There needs to be music." And then he turns and, with an entirely unfamiliar gait, moved over to the phonophone in the corner. There's a box nearby and he sorts through the records with a hum.

"Just put on something that's not broken!" Because Altair just wanted the ghost out of Malik's body already.

The ghost ignored him. Finally a record was put on and after the expected scratching, something mellow but with a noticeable beat underlying it began to play.

"Malik" walks with that same strange (for him) gait until he stands before Altair, beaming in a way that was beyond just out of place and edged towards being unsettling in how much it didn't suit the Malik Altair knew.

Altair frowns, but took "Malik's" hand in his and settled the other one on his waist. He pointedly did not think about how natural it felt, how perfectly his hand fit on the curve of Malik's waist and the slightly cool touch of his palm. Altair was always warmer than Malik (Malik used to complain when they shared a bed about the fact that Altair was like a human heater either because he was too cold and jealous or too hot and annoyed by Altair's proximity), but his hand was chillier than what was normal for the man.

He stiffens when the stump of Malik's left arm moved and something weightless and cold settled on his shoulder. Like a small hand, but less substantial.

"Like this?" The ghost asks using Malik's mouth and Altair stiffly nods. They stare at each other before she says, "You're supposed to lead."

He didn't know how, but he moved a step forward and "Malik" took a stumbling step back. The dance was awkward because neither of them knew what they're doing and Altair hoped she wasn't expecting anything better than this.

It was Malik's face that turns up from watching his feet, but _Malik_ had never had a habit of biting his lip when he was nervous. The ghost stops first and it was reflexes that stop Altair from stepping into her.

"You're wondering why I'm doing this." It was not phrased as a question so Altair didn't answer. She bites her lip again. "I just..." She looks down again, "I've never been in love before." She admits, soft as a whisper, sounding so uncertain. There was still that strange echo, but hearing Malik's voice sounding so lost was still unsettling. "I saw the way you looked at him, and I wondered what it felt like."

And Altair's grip tightens for a moment. Because he'd thought he was being subtle, because _Malik couldn't ever know._

But she didn't notice as she keeps speaking, "I guess it was foolish of me to think you'd look at me that way." She turns her head back up with a smile that did not reach her eyes and it made Altair's heart clench. Because that was an expression he could see (has seen) Malik wearing before. A defeated sort of resignation about the things he'd lost and the things he'd never get back. His was sharper around the edges, a bit of unbroken stubborness that not even the bad-hand he was dealt could take away, but it was close enough that, for a split-second, Altair finds it hard to breathe.

There was worry on Malik's face and it did nothing to help the clench in Altair's chest. It's a reminder of the past, before Solomon's Temple, when Malik still had two arms and Kadar wasn't sleeping in a hospital waiting for them to find a cure to the curse he was under. It wasn't that Malik never worried now that he's forgiven Altair (a thing that he still had trouble believing really happened), but it was never this unguarded. Not anymore.

The cold, ghostly left hand settled on his bicep again, "The song will be finished soon. Could we keep dancing?"

Altair nodded because it was _easier_. That was before the ghost stepped in closer, ducked Malik's head until it was resting on Altair's shoulder. They were standing chest to chest and Altair had to shut his eyes against the memories of the past (but even if he cannot see, his other senses still worked and he could pick up the familiar scent of Malik's hair underneath the smell of dust).

"You've never told him." It was not a question, but Altair answered anyway.

"No." And then (because he will probably never have another chance), Altair's hand slipped from Malik's and settled on his lower back.

"Why not?"

Because Altair had never told anyone and he might not have told her either, but she was dead. Soon she will pass on. Who would she tell?

"I thought it made me weak." He could still remember the morning he woke up beside Malik and realized this _thing_ between them went beyond physical lust. He remembered the fear and the digust and the way he had pushed Malik away in an effort to prove to himself that he _could_. "I was a fool."

"And now?" They were still moving to the music, but it was hindered by their poximity and they were less dancing and more just swaying to the beat.

"Malik would tell you I am still a fool." That, at the very least, brought a faint smirk to his lips. Then he sighed, "regardless, it was no longer my place to want what I do. We have crossed too many bridges since then and we can never cross the same waters again." He said, "I will not burden him with the things I feel."

There was no immediate response and Altair had enough time to realize that the cold that had been settled on his shoulder was _gone_ before Malik (and only Malik, without the girl ghost's voice layered over it) said, "Altair Ibn'La-Ahad, you are an even bigger fool than I thought possible."

Altair jerked back in surprise, face turning pale, but Malik's grip on him tightened and he refused to be moved. From over Malik's shoulder, Altair saw the ghost of the girl there. She waved briefly then disappeared leaving no traces of her ever having been there except for the soft music that continued to play.

Then there was only the two of them.

"Malik, I--"

"Shut up." Malik said without lifting his head from Altair's shoulder, "just...shut up."

It seemed like it would be more appropriate to remove his hands from where they had settled so familiarly on Malik's back. But Malik's arm slid up his arm and rested at the nape of his neck and Altair wished he could see Malik's face. But neither of them moved. Instead, they both stood there, holding each other until the last chords of the song gave way to the scratch of the record, when Malik pulled back.

Altair wasn't sure what he should make of the whole situation (did not dare entertain the hope that all this, Malik's touch on the back of his neck, the way Malik stood close enough that their feet were tangled, meant something more). Malik sighed at him.

"Truly, you are the biggest idiot in the world." He said before he leaned in and pressed their mouths together.

* * *

They avoided talking about it immediately afterwards because they were champions of avoiding these sorts of topics (having managed, thus far, to avoid even hinting at it for years) but also because they were overdue for a talk with their client about how he had falsely advertised the difficulty of this case and to discuss the appropriate compensation for this oversight.

Altair was exhausted and strung out by the time they returned to the condo they were living in a decent sized home with two bedrooms, one of which belonged to Malik, while Altair took the couch (the condo was under Malik's name, but neither of them felt like the room was his to offer).

They stopped and faced each other as the door clicked shut.

They had reached a sort of equilibrium in these last months, but now they were akward in each other's company again, like they had been when Malik realized that the money Altair had been secretly contributing to Kadar's hopsital bills had come from selling his own place and let him crash at his place.

Against his better judgement (which Malik often accused him of not having), Altair reached out first and took Malik's hand in his. When he was met with no resistence, Altair pulled him in, every motion slow as if he were dealing with a shy creature.

And it made Malik scoff.

"This doesn't suit you." He said around a yawn, because Malik had reached the point where he was ready to just fall onto his bed and pass out an hour ago. "Can we talk about this in the morning?"

Altair nodded and tried to let Malik go, but to do that both parties would have to loosen their grip. He was confused but Malik just dragged him further into the home. "The couch isn't exactly comfortable, is it?" He said when Altair looked at him like some poor animal about to be run over. "I'd have to question your tastes if you said you'd prefer the couch."

"I don't." Altair pulled Malik to a stop right in front of his door, "I love you." He said, because Malik had already made up his mind and it was not Altair to doubt him, because he hadn't properly said it (ever) before.

Malik turned his hand so they could thread their fingers together. "I feel like I have waited forever to hear those words. You are late as ever."

Altair leaned in, pressing their foreheads together, "I'm sorry."

"We'll talk in the morning." Malik said, feeling overwhelmed when every revelation and every stresser was magnified by exhaustion (and he was _cold_ the way he only was after being possessed by a departed spirit and he was beyond the point where he was able to pretend he didn't miss Altair's warmth).

* * *

They fell into bed together and he thought it would be awkward but they were both too tired to care and it wasn't long before Malik fell asleep and when he did, he found himself in the house again.

He almost didn't recognize where he was because the walls were covered in elegant wallpaper and the floors covered in pristine floor boards. But the music playing in the background was familiar and there was the girl-ghost, standing there in a pretty blue dress.

When she took his hands they were warm, not cold.

"Did you get together?"

"We haven't talked about it yet."

"But will you?" She said, bouncing on the balls of her feet, her eyes wide and full of expectation.

"We'll see." It was not a 'yes' but she smiled wide (Malik thought, she's already left. She couldn't be here. But then, their souls had been close, squished together within the same body so maybe some things lingered).


End file.
